Love Makes Fools Of Us All
by Scarygamer345
Summary: Unrequited FrUK. England confesses his love to France, but gets horribly rejected. Many years later, they get into a relationship, which is he worst mistake the both of them make. Could possibly be considered yandere, but maybe not. Character death. Just warning you.
1. Prologue

A long, long time ago, before a war that lasted a hundred years, two nations were sitting together in a field. The two nations, England and France, had a very shaky relationship. They weren't exactly fond of each other, or at least, that's what they liked people to believe.

You see, one of them, England, had fallen in love with his enemy. Had done when he was a small child, and France had looked after him. He'd been in denial for a really long time, but had finally accepted it, and was ready to confess.

He sucked in a deep breath, and asked; "Hey, France?"

France turned to look at him. "Yes? What is it?"

England hesitated a bit. He soldiered through, no point in backing out now. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm in love with you." He said all in one breath.

France gave him a shocked look. "What?"

"I'm in love with you." It was easier to say now that it had already been said.

France furrowed his brows. "You're in love with me?"

England rolled his eyes. "Yes, as I've just said twice now."

"Oh."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, before England asked; "Are you in love with me?" It was a long shot, as he figured if France really _was_ in love with him, he would've said something by now.

France laughed. "Me? In love with you?" He laughed again. "As if I could love a stupid rosbif like you! Your eyebrows are hideous! No one could love someone like you!"

England stared at France, hurt, sadness, and anger visible on his face. How dare France say something like that! Hiding his heartbreak behind a mask of rage, he stands to his feet. "Well, not like I care anyway! I was just joking! Hahahahaha!" His tone was slightly hysterical, and they both noticed. They didn't say anything about it, and England stormed away from the field, his hatred for France intensifying.


	2. Chapter 1

Another world meeting. How boring. Even Japan, who usually tried to pay attention and actively participate in the discussions, was drifting away. He looked around the room, chaos erupting as usual. He looked over to England and France, who were fighting, once again. He sighed. They were always fighting over something trivial. He watched them for a little bit, having nothing else to entertain himself with. After a while, he noticed there was a strange tension between the two. He studied them more closely, watching how they got _very_ close, even for a fight. His eyes widened in realisation.

 _Oh… so_ that's _why they're always fighting._

It made so much sense, now that he'd looked at it. There was some _serious_ sexual tension between the two. Now he just had to figure out how to get the two together.

He looked over at them again. Still fighting. He sighed. He figured that it would be hard to get them to see it unless he stated it outright.

 _Might as well, the meeting is going nowhere anyway._

"Hey, Britain?"

England stopped his fighting, his head in a headlock with France, and France in a headlock with him. "Yes, Japan? What is it?"

"When are you two going to stop fighting each other and confess your hidden feelings for each other?"

England and France froze. "What."

"You heard me." Japan said, not feeling so sure of himself now.

"What gives you the idea that we have feelings for each other?" France asks, detangling himself from England.

"Yeah." England adds, glaring at Japan.

Japan seemed to shrink under both their glares. "I've just noticed some… err… _sexual_ tension between the two of you."

"WHAT?!" They both exclaim.

"Where the hell did you get _that_ idea from?!" England shrieks.

"There's no way that there's any of _that_ between the two of us! I'd rather die than have any feelings for _him_!" France also shrieks.

"Likewise." England says, barely covering up the hurt in his voice. After all those years, he never quite grew out of that little crush, no matter how much he hated France. "Now don't bring up this subject again."

"May I ask why?" Japan couldn't help but ask. He regretted it almost immediately, his curiosity getting the best of him.

"Why? WHY?! Oh, I don't know, maybe because I HATE HIS GUTS AND DON'T WANT TO SPEAK ABOUT THE POSSIBILITY OF A RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN US!"

"Please calm down, I'm sorry, I won't bring up this topic again!" Japan really regretted asking that, he didn't like upsetting people, especially friends.

England sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I think I need some air." He then left the meeting room, oblivious to the calls of others who were actually doing the right thing asking him to stay.

France, surprisingly enough, didn't say anything to England as he left, and actually followed after him, which bewildered everyone.

England was standing outside, leaning against the building. He wasn't crying, or showing any emotion. He looked his usual normal self. On the inside though, he was a mess. He'd really thought he'd gotten over that silly crush. Apparently he'd thought wrong.

France hurried out of the building, trying to look for England. He didn't like England at all, but he figured he might try and comfort him. After all, he was aware that England still had feelings for him. Apparently he wasn't as good at hiding them as he thought he was.

He turned the corner, seeing England staring at the ground, his expression impassive. He walked straight up to him, and laid a hand on England's shoulder, startling him.

"What the hell?!" England said, jumping away from France. "What do you think you're doing?!"

"I was just trying to comfort you, Angleterre."

"Well you can fuck off, I don't want your comfort, or to see your face. Leave me alone."

"Can't I stay?" France asked.

"No. I don't need any comfort anyway."

"I think you do." He whispered.

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"I know you still have feelings for me, lapin."

England's face turned stony. "I don't."

France sighed. "Why must you be so stubborn!? Stop denying it! It's so obvious!"

England turned away. "Why should I?"

"Because I have feelings for you too!" Immediately after saying that, France slapped his hands over his mouth. _Why did I say that?_

England looked shocked at France's outburst, and a little hopeful. "Really?"

France looked at the expression on England's face, and said; "Yeah, I do."

England was speechless. He didn't know what to say, but found he didn't have to say anything as he was drawn into a hug from France. He felt so happy, he'd never thought something like that would happen. He smiled a little bit, not being able to contain it.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

It was a few years down the track. France and England had moved in together, and everything seemed to be going great between the two. No one thought that any kind of relationship would work out between them, but they had been proven wrong.

 _It's the perfect time._ France was in the kitchen, cutting some vegetables for dinner. He used an unusually large knife, more suited for cutting meat than vegetables. _It's now or never._ He finishes up, putting the ingredients into a pot.

Meanwhile, England was in his study, looking for a spell. It was a very tricky spell, that required a high skill level. Just as he thought he'd found it, he heard footsteps coming towards him. He turned around, and saw France standing at the doorway.

"France? What do you- "

He got cut off as France slammed him into the wall. England was very confused as to what was going on, but when France started kissing him, he decided it wasn't important.

 _Good, he isn't resisting._ France moved his hand, which had been behind his back, and suddenly, thrust it into England's chest. He jolted, and pulled away. When he looked down, he saw a large knife sticking out of his chest, France's hand still attached to the handle.

"Love makes fools of us all, Angleterre, and love has made you the biggest fool of all." France pulls away, leaving England to bleed on the study floor.

France leaves the room, going to change out of his bloodstained clothes, then heads downstairs to the kitchen, to finish preparing dinner. He had finally done it! He had waited _years_ to do it, but now it was done. He could now gain control of England's country, and more importantly, gotten rid of that obnoxious man, with his horrible personality, and horrible eyebrows. He would never have to put up with that brit ever again. The thought made France break out into a huge smile. He started humming to himself, truly happy.

Unbeknownst to him, however, England wasn't dead. He had pulled the knife out of his chest, and had stumbled down the stairs. He would have been heard, but France's humming had drowned it out. With his hand on the wall to support him, he slowly but surely made his way to the kitchen door.

 _Why? Why would he do this?_ England thought. After all, he had finally believed that France returned his feelings, but he had lied. He had stabbed England in the back, (or should I say, chest), and left him for dead. Why would he do that? Then he realised. _He wants my country for himself!_ He had never loved England, probably never even liked him at all, he just wanted his land. England could feel a boiling rage inside of him, threatening to come out. He gripped the knife tighter, and finally reached the doorway. France was still distracted, unaware of his presence. He crept up closer, and was almost upon him, when France turned around.

The shock on his face was priceless, but England didn't get time to enjoy it, as he lunged forwards, stabbing at France repeatedly, finally letting his rage out. France tried to defend himself, but there wasn't much he could do. England stopped suddenly, and looked France straight in the eyes.

"I hate you."

He then stabbed France in the forehead, right between his eyes. When he was sure France was dead, he got off of him, and sat next to him. The whole thing had left him drained, both emotionally, and physically.

England could feel he was dying, he had lost a lot of blood. He tried to get up, go to the medicine cabinet or phone, but he collapsed. His breath was becoming laboured, and he knew that he didn't have long left. He decided to write a note, in his blood. A note explaining what had happened. He wrote a couple of letters, but died before he could finish it. His hand had slipped, causing it to smudge what he had written, so his effort had been in vain.


	4. Epilogue

Epilogue:

It was a sunny day, the birds were chirping, the flowers blooming, and best of all, it was Spain's day off, which meant he could enjoy this beautiful day to its fullest. He was sitting underneath a tree, just admiring the scenery, when he got a call.

 _How strange… it's my day off, who is calling me?_ He checked the caller id, and wasn't surprised. _Of course, it's Prussia, who else?_

He answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi. Have you heard from France recently?"

 _Well, he got to the point quickly._ "No, I haven't heard from him in a few weeks, why?"

"Well, I have a feeling something bad has happened, and I'm starting to get worried. I wanted us to hang out sometime, but every time I call him, it goes to voicemail."

"Oh, really? That's strange."

"Yeah, he usually answers after a while. I'm going to go check on him, are you going to come?"

"Sure."

"Ok, see you there!"

"Yeah, see you."

He hung up, and prepared to get up. He guessed he wouldn't get to have such a relaxing day off after all.

Prussia stood outside of France's door, waiting for Spain to arrive.

"If he doesn't show up soon, I'm going to check on him by myself…" He mumbled under his breath. Not long after he said that, Spain arrived. "Finally! I've been waiting out here for hours!"

"Sorry."

Prussia then knocked on the door, waiting for a response. When no one answered, he knocked again, and again, until they both gave up, and broke in.

"Hey Prussia, can you smell something?"

"You mean the smell of rotting corpses, yeah."

They both frowned, worried. They decided to split up, Spain going to check the kitchen, Prussia checking the living room.

"Gilbert!"

At the sound of his human name, Prussia came running to the kitchen, gasping at what he saw. The sight was pretty horrific.

"Well… at least we know where the smell is coming from…" Prussia said, trying to lighten the mood. It didn't work. They both stared at their dead friend and his dead partner, just horrified.

"We should probably let the others know." Spain finally said, after a period of silence.

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea."

They both left the room, still in shock. It wouldn't be until much later, that they would both break down, mourning over their best friend.


End file.
